idlemusings

The silence hung low over the countryside like an accomplice to the laden sky. The final echoes from the guns had faded, absorbed by the remaining fir trees, swallowed by the swirling snow. As if war could be so easily erased.

The girl's breath rasped in her burning throat and expelled mockingly always just ahead of her, just ahead. The cold knifed through her thin shift, apposite to warm French bedrooms, not the cold reality of a midwinter's night. She was young, too young to be so alone, running like a pale ghost through the indifferent night.

Her numb feet slipped on the icy road but she kept her balance and ran. And ran.

Through the gloom a building slowly materialised, a dilapidated barn, sanctuary, life. She ran.

Inside the barn it was dark, darker than the pale snow outside and the girl paused in the doorway. Her eyes adjusted and she could see that sallow light entered the barn from a jagged hole in the roof, illuminating the shattered remains of a field gun. Standing in the centre of the barn, a darker shadow against the ebony night, was a soldier. His eyes lifted from the remains of his gun and fell upon her.

‘Please', she whispered, ‘who will help me?'

I heard the words from the child before me, could feel her eyes beseeching me but I could do nothing. Nothing. Could she not see that I was dead?

I knew I was dead; the vision of my end had been visited upon me before the searing reality had come to pass. I had seen that we would all be killed in the early hours of the night, removed from the world of man by one of the last shells of the German barrage.

There were four of us manning our field gun. We had been together for six months, six months through the mud, the disease and the death of Flanders. Our officer, Marlott, had chosen the deserted French barn as the ideal site for us to conceal our gun. He was wrong; the barn would be only our crypt.

I had drawn the late watch that night, our last night. So I had slept first, slept and dreamt of the fate that was to befall us.

In my dream I was awoken by the sound of gunfire, of shells ripping the air as they sped overhead, borne by the swiftness of hatred.

We manned our gun; Marlott encouraging me to load the heavy shells faster, faster. Our gun spitting our own fear and hate back at those who meant to harm us. Those just like us. The world shook as a shell exploded nearby. The enemy knew us now and our mortal time was nearly over. Still I loaded our gun with a desperate haste, as if by speed alone I could prevent our fate.

We all heard it. The One. We had heard enough shells to know the siren song of the one that would not pass us by. We were frozen, unable to do more than stare upwards as death swept toward us on whistling wings. A spanner that had been lying on the leg of our gun slipped. Slipped and fell onto the shell casings below with a metallic tinkle. The sound drove a thought like a spike into my brain ‘NOW, if I am to live I must move NOW'. But I was frozen, by the cold, by my fear, and all I could move were my eyes to meet those of Marlott, staring at each other in wordless horror until the shell took our lives from us.

I awoke from my dream to the sound of gunfire.

‘Please' the girl repeated ‘who will help me?'

In the distance I could hear the rumble of approaching troops. They would take her and she would be lost. Just a child, and lost. I could do nothing. Could she not see that I was dead?

‘Please' the girl repeated ‘who will help me?

Something. Something was. Wrong.

I stood in the barn, alone but for the scattered remains of my comrades. No sound disturbed the snows gentle fall.

I awoke from my dream to the sound of gunfire...

We all heard it. The One. We had heard enough shells to know the siren song of the one that would not pass us by. We were frozen, unable to do more than stare upwards as death swept toward us on whistling wings. A spanner that had been lying on the leg of the gun slipped. Slipped and fell onto the shell casings below with a metallic tinkle. The sound drove a thought like a spike into my brain ‘NOW, if I am to live I must move NOW'. My eyes met those of Marlott, staring at each other in wordless horror.

But something. Something was. Different.

Marlott was moving, receding. My comrades were drawing away from me, leaving me.

No.

It was I that was moving, leaving them. The sound of the falling spanner compelling my body to motion. Struggling against the thick treacle of fear and despair, but moving, moving. Shifting unbidden until the protective wall of the barn came between my comrades and I and they were lost to my eyes and moments later, lost to everything, enveloped in fire from above. And I too was lost in darkness.

I returned to myself. Confused and dazed I re-entered the barn. My friends lay dead. Dead, as I should have been dead.

I stood in the barn, alone but for the scattered remains of my comrades. No sound disturbed the snows gentle fall.

But I could hear the ghost sound of footsteps running toward me in the snow and the whisper of a plea on the wind.

‘Please, who will help me?'

I.

__________________
The despair I can live with - it's the hope I can't stand...

-unfocused ramblings at - www.shsib.blogspot.com

eggo

Hey Idlemusings,

It was confusing having the replay of events so close to each other. You might want to put some separation between the two. Ths econd thing that bothered me was the bomb that killed him and his friends. The barn would been a little less than "dilapidated" if it took a direct bomb hit.

There is some good writing here,
and some cliche',

The change in the POV half -way through through me for a loop.
The radical change of third person to first person was jarring.

It was a good story and with a little clean up could be much better.

Thanks.

Btw, you'll get more reviews on your work if you critique some others here. I've have learned as much here by critiquing as I have by being critqued.

LoneWolf

Hey there! Nice story, but just a tad bit confusing. The change of POV definitely threw me off. I thought it was about this girl and then it suddenly shifted to the guy.

For some reason this sentence bothered me. The second 'And ran' just seems out of place. Perhaps it would do better with '...' (whatever those things are called). ...she kept her balance and ran...and ran. It kind of signifies the continuation of her running. At least that's what I think.

I don't think the 'She ran' is neccesary here, since you already said that she ran...and ran. But you could show how desparate and hopeful she was by rewording it into something with a more frenzied feeling. Phrases like, 'She scurried towards the building' or 'She hurried...' gives the sentence more depth instead of just 'She ran'.

Again, this just feels strange, separating the wrong from the rest of the sentence. "Something was wrong. Very wrong." would feel a bit better here. Or "Something was...wrong".

Same thing here. It's just my personal preferance, though.

Sorry if I was a bit picky on stuff. I liked the story a lot. eggo was right on the money with everything he said. A clean up and a re-write would make this story mucho mucho better. I hoped I helped slightly. Great job.

LW

__________________
My aim is to put down on paper what I see and what I feel in the best and simplest way. --Ernest Hemingway

idlemusings

Thanks for your comments.

Just in my defence – it was a shell not a bomb and since the story was set in WWI the power wouldn’t have been too great (although this is semantics really and I accept that my gunner may not have survived)

The POV change was intentional and supposed to throw the reader off.

The reason for ‘.And ran’. Was to signify a longer time period than ‘…and ran’ does. The same technique was used for ‘Something was.’ Etc. I wanted a longer pause between each sentence than ‘…’ achieves.

Also ‘scurried’ etc didn’t seem to me to have the same continuity as ‘she ran’. Again this was used on purpose to signify that the girl was running for a long time (and in a bit of a panic – hence the single use of ‘ran’ rather than another adjective).

To help clarify the story, the actual chronological sequence of events ran like this –

The girl lost her family in the fighting, was driven from her home when it was destroyed and had to flee before the advancing army.

The soldier dreamt that he would be killed but, forewarned, knew that if he ran when the spanner dropped he could survive. The noise of the spanner could be used as a trigger to break his paralysis of fear. It is doubtful that this alone would have allowed him to find the will to desert his comrades but in his dream he also saw the girl arrive at the barn, in desperate need of help, and he was unable to do anything to save her as he had died in the shell’s explosion.

In the end he does, without thinking, desert his mates to save himself and consequently is alive to help the girl escape when she reaches the barn.

However the story seemed to need to be rearranged in time to work and I removed the italics from the dream sequence with the girl to distort the reality of the events.

I was interested in how this approach would translate to the reader and your comments have helped me get that feedback. Many thanks.

__________________
The despair I can live with - it's the hope I can't stand...

-unfocused ramblings at - www.shsib.blogspot.com

seraphserpent

I liked your story and I loved the depth to it. I’m all for fear and premonitions and dreams and the like. I have a few things to say (praise and constructive criticism all mixed together). I tried to keep it in order of the story.


I’m not sure what you mean by shift? Is it a typo? And do you mean opposite? Apposite doesn’t seem to work here, but I could be wrong.

I think this works. Once. But you used a lot of repetition and it started to play on my nerves. Once or twice and it would have worked perfectly for you.

someone (I forget who) said that he/she didn’t like this. I can’t disagree more. I think it perfectly portrays what you’re trying to get across. She’s not scurrying like a mouse, she’s running, and to her it feels like she’s been running for a long time, or she will be running for a long time, right?

I do think that the first few paragraphs made for sticky reading. What I mean by this is: it felt bogged down with adjectives and adverbs. The descriptions are lovely, but to me, it was too slow and sticky feeling for the atmosphere you were creating. It didn’t feel like it flowed.

I love that sentence. It gave me chills.

The first time I read this, I found it awkward. I thought it would work better if it read like “the barn would only be our crypt.” But now I’m not sure. I keep rereading it but I can’t come to a conclusion on that one. Sorry.

Again, I have to disagree with someone else’s comment. I think this works. I know that my mind stutters and skips like that when I’m nervous (or tired) or scared. I think it would have worked better if the last bit was “something was different” instead of just “Different.”

I’m a little confused as to what happened. I’m not sure why, but for some reason I thought the little girl died and it was his guilt at the end, making him hear the words. The story is a little confusing but I’m not sure I can give you any suggestions on how to make it less so. I’ll think about it for a little while more.

eggo

Now I'm really confused. Why would you want to throw your reader off?

You are weaving a story about premonition and past and future meeting, why would you want to confuse your reader? The stories convoluted enough with having to swallow a monkey wrench at the same time. I would re-iterate the point that a change of POV in the story that has a difficult premise to understand is like poking us with pointy sticks.

If their is some logical reason for this that escapes me, Please enlighten me.

idlemusings

Seraphserpent (good name by the way)

'Shift' is an old English term for nightgown. 'Apposite' = appropriate or suitable.

'The barn would be our crypt' bit annoys the hell out of me too - must fix it...

In the bit above yours I tried to explian the story in a normal manner so that people could understand the sequence of events.

Eggo - sorry to poke you with pointy sticks (like the term). I was trying out a writing style (see above) as the story seemed to 'ordinary' when presented in a straight linear fashion.

Thanks again for taking the time to comment.

__________________
The despair I can live with - it's the hope I can't stand...

-unfocused ramblings at - www.shsib.blogspot.com

seraphserpent

hm, I learned a new word. (shift, I mean) I know what apposite means, I just don't see how it fits. I guess what I'm saying is that apposite seems to be the adjective of the cold (to me) rather than to the shift.

I'm sure it's just me. Now that I know what shift means, I can make it make sense. Something about the sentence just seems aweward. Again, I'm sure it's just me.

As for the POV switch, I'll say it again: I think it works. Lots of established writers use this. I understood as soon as the POV switched; I wasn't confused at all. I actually found it kind of nice. I was expecting to read a common and not at all unique story about a girl hero who finds love or something, but instead I got this. I stand my ground here: I like it.

Wyndstar

I really enjoyed this story. Someone else actually knows and uses the word 'shift' other than me---coolness.

I found the writing beautiful and expressive. The changes in pov were nicely sublte and reflected the hazy dream like state the chars were experiencing quite well. It was just vague enough that the reader could be a part of it in the reading, get a bit lost in it. If the reader fights the current, it confuses them. I think that's the only problem here. Most readers prefer reality to be conveyed in a solid, unquestionable manner. The story and its elements have to be precisely defined. Not completely, but I'd say 75% of the story. This story is almost completely amorphous, and that makes it hard for some readers. Not me though. It was quite good as far as I'm concerned.

__________________
Old enough to know better, young enough to think I can still get away with it.